Chapter 3 - THE LOCKDOWN PROTOCOL
"Where do you think you're going, kid?"
The voice was like grinding gravel. Toby found himself staring into the chest of a man built like a brick wall. It was Carter, Elias Vance’s personal head of security—a former private military contractor with dead eyes and a scarred jawline. Carter didn't wait for an answer. He shoved Toby hard against the metal casing of the speaker crates, pinning him in place.
Red emergency lights began to flash rhythmically throughout the backstage area, bathing the chaos in a sinister, pulsing glow. The automated PA system blared a mechanical warning: “Code Red. Full facility lockdown initiated. All exits are sealed. Please remain in place.”
"Lockdown?" Toby choked out, struggling against Carter’s iron grip. "The stage just collapsed! People need to evacuate!"
"Nobody leaves," Carter growled, his earpiece buzzing with frantic chatter. "Especially not the rat who handed Sterling the remote."
Toby’s blood ran cold. They knew. Of course they knew. Elias wasn't stupid; he would have reviewed the stage footage instantly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Toby lied, his voice trembling despite his best efforts. "I'm just a stagehand! The floor director told me to bring the clicker!"
"Save it," Carter sneered, drawing a heavy, suppressed tactical pistol from his shoulder holster. The sight of the weapon in the dim, red-lit corridor made Toby’s stomach plummet. This wasn't corporate espionage anymore. This was a cover-up, and Toby was a loose end.
Before Carter could raise the weapon, a heavy steel wrench swung out of the shadows with blinding speed, connecting with a sickening crunch against the side of Carter’s skull. The massive security guard grunted, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed forward, dropping the gun and slumping to the concrete floor.
Toby gasped, sliding down the speaker crate as he looked up to see his savior.
Standing there, breathing heavily, with a streak of blood and grease smeared across his forehead, was Marcus Sterling. The billionaire dropped the bloody wrench, his expression a mask of cold, calculating intensity. He didn't look like a CEO anymore; he looked like a cornered apex predator.
"You're the kid," Marcus said, his voice clipped and precise, entirely devoid of the panic Toby was feeling. "The one with the gaffer tape."
"Y-yes," Toby stammered, staring at the unconscious giant on the floor. "You just... you just hit him."
"He was about to put a bullet in your head," Marcus replied coldly, bending down to snatch the suppressed pistol from the floor. He checked the magazine with practiced efficiency. "Elias initiated a Level 5 facility lockdown. It overrides all standard emergency protocols. He’s trapped us in here. He’s going to use the chaos to have his private security team finish the job, then blame the stage collapse on a tragic engineering oversight."
Marcus stepped closer, grabbing Toby by the collar of his black crew shirt and hauling him to his feet. "You saved my life, kid. I don't know who you are, but you're in the crosshairs now, just like me. What's your name?"
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"Toby," he swallowed hard. "Toby Hayes."
"Well, Toby Hayes," Marcus said, his eyes darting down the corridor as the sound of heavy combat boots echoed in the distance. "If you want to live to see tomorrow, you're going to help me take my company back. Run."
